


Nothing Wasted, Everything Gained

by Bi_Duckling



Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Bing is Chaos, But I might continue it later, Everyone is human in this, Google and Bing are Engineers, Google likes perfection, I wanted to write a fun fic, M/M, Not a lot of drama, Office AU, Pre-Relationship, Suppose to be a oneshot, Thrown water bottles is the most violent this fic gets probably, it goes well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 07:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bi_Duckling/pseuds/Bi_Duckling
Summary: Google, top of his class and skilled at everything he does, get's hired by the Iplier Corporation. Its a highly respected industry that's more difficult to get into (via employment) than it is to be accepted in Harvard.His boss tells him that they never hire anyone who isn't of extreme use and benefit to the company.So, how in the world did Bing, this slacking-off, sugar-high skateboarder, get there?





	Nothing Wasted, Everything Gained

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Mad_Madame_Mim and Heart_of_a_Dragon for the Beta~ :3

The telling sounds of a coffee machine finishing its brew echoes through the small simple, kitchen and into Google’s bedroom. The man, dressed in royal blue slacks, black wingtips, and a pressed white button-up, stares at his reflection in the mirror as swift hands focus on tying a matching blue-and-silver-striped tie into a perfect windsor knot. Once finished, he flattens down the front of his tie with both of his hands, and with one more glance over to check for any imperfections, Google turns out the light and makes his way down the hall. 

 

A morning newscast plays quietly on the television as Google presses down the lever on the toaster, beginning the cooking process for two pieces of toast. He sips on his coffee, mixed with two spoonfuls of sugar and a dash of cream, and listens to the traffic report. Today is his first day working for the Iplier Corporation, a business company that has its hands in multiple industries and is rumored to provide endless opportunities to the employees that it hires. Thousands apply, but only a small percentage ever make the cut, even though it’s never been explained to the public why that is. 

 

Google doesn’t care about this anymore. He’s made the so-called ‘cut’. With a Masters in Computer Science and Engineering and graduating at the top of his class with most of his honors, Google is pleased that his hard work has been recognised. His starting position is co-leading the software engineers at the Iplier Headquarters. Although the thought of not having full control over a team and position annoys Google to no end, he understands the delicate opportunity he’s been given. All he has to do is play-along for a little while and get his foot in the door. Once he’s got his own foundation under him, he’ll work on succeeding his peers and begin his task of climbing to the top. 

 

The traffic report ends, and he’s pleased to know that his commute will be relatively undisturbed. The toaster pops up, presenting two perfectly cooked pieces of bread, and his coffee was brewed exactly to his liking. Google allows himself a small smirk from the results, almost a sign that everything will go his way today, and he fixes himself some breakfast before heading out the door and into his car. 

 

HQ is a series of multiple buildings, all with various heights and appearances, and they’re placed in such a way where an open courtyard sits in the center between them all. Benches and tree plots checker the space, but Google pays them little mind as he walks along the paved paths to the main building. Sitting at 5 stories tall, the main office looks like a glass mansion. It screams uniqueness and demands attention, wanting the world to know that it’s different, powerful, and is not something that should be overlooked with careless eyes. 

 

Google holds back a scoff, the glare of the morning sun against the shining building not fazing him in the slightest, and returns his focus on getting towards the front steps. He might care more about the building’s image once he rules it. Smirking at the thought, he walks into another intersection within the courtyard.

 

Two seconds of roaring of wheels against cement is all the warning Google has. It’s enough time to glance to his right before jumping backwards with a curse spitting out through his lips. His thermos, carrying his remaining coffee, clatters to the ground; the motion causes the lid to pop open and spill its contents onto the cement, and it trickles into the gravel lining the sides. Google is staring at it, hands posed to brace himself in case he falls, but his eyes snap back around to the culprit when he hears them shout out in surprise. 

 

It’s some fucking kid on a skateboard, Google realizes. Decked out in yellow and black skater garb and a cheap pair of neon orange plastic sunglasses, the man waves his hand back at Google and yells out a half-hearted apology with a smile before he rides the board the rest of the way towards the steps. Google watches in disbelief as the man kicks up the board with one foot before he takes the steps two at a time and enters the glaring building. 

 

His hands fall to his sides, shoulders slouching in time, and Google feels the corner of his eye twitch at the thought that he has to work with such rude and incompetent coworkers. Google takes a deep breath and focuses on calming down in an attempt to keep his appearance professional. However, when he leans down to pick up the thermos, a passing rain cloud begins to let loose, and as Google positions his satchel to be an impromptu umbrella, he feels his glare return full force. 

 

Google has to put every effort into not breaking something when he realizes that his partner and fellow co-leader is none other than skateboard-brat. He’s standing in the office of his boss, Wilford Warfstache, who is sitting behind his desk with his feet propped up on its surface. Lounging back with one hand behind his head, he gestures with the other one towards the second man in the room. Wilford says that the kid’s name is Bing, and Google feels himself operate on autopilot. He takes the hand, showing his mannerisms, and introduces himself in turn. On the inside, however, Google wants to break his hand in half when it seems that skater-boy doesn’t even recognise that he’s the one he nearly ran over during the morning chaos.

 

Throughout the week, Google manages on his own. Bing always seems to disappear to different floors with no reason, and Google is grateful for his background experience that allows him to answer most of the teams software questions with very little difficulty. When the brat does show up, he does very little work. He chooses, instead, to chat it up with the office staff, play video games, and Google has to yell at him to stop practicing his balance while teetering on an office partition with his skateboard. Bing waves him off with another smile and tells him to lighten up, but he listens regardless when it looks like Google is about to fry a circuit. 

 

Friday rolls around, and Google’s hair is a mess from dragging his hand through it so many times out of frustration. He stopped keeping a list of things Bing has done to slack off once he hit the tenth page of a word document, and Google storms into Wilford’s office after Bing dismisses him with a smile for what seems the twentieth time that week. 

 

“Ah, Google!” his boss greets him, and the drawl within his accent is prominent. The man is lounging in the same position Google left him in on his first day, but now there’s a martini in his right hand. He’d call him out on it if they were on equal standings, but he has more pressing matters to address. “Good to see you! How’s the office life treating you, ol’ boy?”

 

Google shuts the office door before speaking, and he focuses on keeping his tone professional. “Good afternoon, sir. There are some matters that have come to my attention about my fellow co-partner that I would like to discuss. It’s due to his mannerisms and his lack of ability to accomplish anything during work hours.” 

 

“Oh?” Wilford brings the rim of the glass to his lips, and Google watches as some of the clear liquid disappears beneath the bright pink mustache. 

 

“Yes,” Google continues after a moment, “He procrastinates profusely. If it’s not video games, then it’s unnecessary chatting with our team - which distracts them from their main tasks and wastes valuable time. That skateboard he keeps lying around is a tripping hazard, both to himself and the rest of the staff.” He doesn’t add that if he has to listen to another Kidz Bop remix, he might no longer resist the urge to throw the man off the roof. “Over this past week, I have seen no productivity come out of him in any way, shape, or form, and with the Iplier company holding its selected employees in such high regard, I am failing to see why he was even hired in the first place.”

 

Having his boss throw his head back in laughter was not the response Google was expecting at all. Wilford laughed as though Google had told the most hilarious joke of all time. The only problem was that Google seemed to have missed the punch line. Google watches and waits with his remaining patience, and he only raises an eyebrow as Wilford waves an apology for his laughing fit. “I suppose that is quite a first impression he’s left on you, isn’t it?” Wilford responds with a smile. The curl of his lips seem to mimic the curl of the mustache.

 

Google can’t help but frown at the answer. 

 

“I’ve been impressed by you,” Wilford continues, “but you’re also new, so I don’t expect you to pick up on it right away.” 

 

“To what are you referring, sir?” 

 

“How the Iplier company works, my boy!” The pink-haired man states the answer like an obvious fact, just like how the sky is blue and the world is round. When it becomes clear that Google isn’t understanding, Wilford sets his martini down and laces his fingers together across his chest. With a head tilt, Wilford looks over Google with an amused smile. “The company does indeed put high value in each employee it hires, and Bing is no exception.” 

 

“I fail to grasp how that sugar high child-,” Google stops himself and closes his eyes against the sudden outburst that leaves his lips. After a breath, he opens his eyes again and crosses his arms behind his back. “I know quite well of the reputation this company portrays. What I do not understand is how the work ethic I’ve seen from Bing has produced any profit for the Iplier Corporation.”

 

“Dark Iplier doesn’t hire anyone that’s useless to him.” The name of the CEO hitting Google’s ears makes his attention perk up. Wilford is still smiling at him, his expression amused and his eyes half lidded. 

 

Hardly anyone has met the CEO. It’s rumored that it’s a pretty rare occurrence to see the man behind the strings, but if you do, then it’s because of something serious, and you hope that you didn’t fuck up anything to get on his bad side. It’s always his immediate subordinates that deal with customers and staff, and it’s those subordinates that only get to talk to Dark. It’s a position Google plans on working towards, but he keeps that goal to himself for the time being. 

 

“Every person under consideration for employment gets a thorough background check. Even if they get past that inspection, Dark will only hire them if their skills provide a major benefit to the company. Also, each resume and application passes by Dark’s eyes directly. He knows who he wants under his control, and he won’t hire a person, let alone keep them, if their usefulness was suddenly moot.” Sensing that Google wasn’t satisfied with that answer, Wilford continues, “In summary, Google, if Bing wasn’t useful, he would not be here. Do you understand?”

 

Google grips his hands behind his back, and his brows furrowed in confusion. Wilford picks up his martini once more and tells Google to give Bing a chance, and that in the heat of the moment, Google might be surprised. 

 

Taking the dismissal for what it is, Google bows his head lightly and excuses himself. Wilford bids a goodbye with a wave, and Google shuts the office door behind him. 

 

Back at his desk, Google stares over his monitor at Bing, who’s discussing the plot of some cartoon with one of the interns while they both stand at the watercooler. Wilford’s words echo in Google’s mind, and the man scowls in Bing’s general direction. The man catches Google’s gaze, and he simply beams back at him and waves. Google’s mood sours and he turns back to his computer screens. 

 

The weekend arrives, and it gives Google two peaceful days to himself and away from his uselessly energetic coworker, but like all weekends, it goes too fast. Monday comes up to smack him in the face. More accurately, it comes in the form of Bing smacking the back of his shoulder with a greeting of a ‘good morning’ before bounding up the steps ahead of him. Google is grateful that he has a firm grip on his thermos this time as he follows Bing up to the building.

 

Most of the day is, blessedly, uneventful, but in the afternoon, Google blinks and everything is in chaos. The building’s power glitches, a brief blackout, before all computer screens flash black with green coding flying by at lightning speed. They’re being hacked, and Google hears the name ‘Anti’ amongst the screams as the engineers fight to regain back their software. 

 

Google is immediately on top of directing his team. He shouts orders and gives tasks to the various software engineers and interns. Though not as great as Google, it seems that Dark is actually very good at picking out skilled employees, but even Google can see that their skills aren’t fast enough to stop the hack. They’re getting overwhelmed fast, even Google is having a hard time. Whoever this ‘Anti’ is, he’s very good at what he does, and it takes every last trick in Google’s book in order to hold the front line. 

 

Google is in the middle of shouting out another order when Bing’s calm voice cuts through the chaos. “Don’t worry about it,” Bing says, and Google is about to have an ulcer. 

 

Rage cutting through enough to stop his defence, Google spins around in his chair, and his eyes are like fire. “BING, I’VE HAD JUST ABOUT ENOUGH OF YOUR NEGLIGENCE-”

 

What Google sees leaves him speechless. 

 

Bing is at his desk, all monitors are powered up, and his fingers are flying across the keyboard. The orange sunglasses are pushed up to his forehead, the first time Google really sees his eyes without a filter, and Bing’s gaze is hyperfocused on the screens in front of him. He’s vaguely aware that his underlings are still working, but he hears their sounds turn from panic to victory. 

 

Bing, this supposedly useless mass of existence, is fighting back against one of the companies top rival hackers. 

 

And he’s winning. 

 

Google makes a conscious effort to turn back to his computer screen and help out, trying not to let this new mind-reeling information affect his performance, but due to Bing’s defences, it’s starting to get easier to manage the hack. He feels his heart hammering against his chest, and Google isn’t sure if its from anger, adrenaline, or something else that he can’t quite describe.

 

Bing defeats Ant’s hack a half hour before shift ends, and Google watches from a distance as Bing even makes his own hack and sends it back at Anti. The interns surround Bing and cheer as he concludes his task before Google finally steps forward and tells them to get back to work. He orders them to check for any loose ends Anti might’ve slipped in, and they obey his orders right away with various forms of ‘yes sir’. 

 

He turns back to Bing after a moment, but the man is now focused on beefing up the firewall. The skater doesn’t even seem to notice his presence, brown eyes that shine with an intense passion and drive has no time to look at him, and Google clenches his hands at his sides before he walks away and back to his desk. 

 

He isn’t sure why he stays late that day. Bing seemed to have a handle on things, but Google concludes that he must’ve been there to provide backup. 

 

Him. Being backup.

 

Google grips the edge of his desk in frustration. He’s always been the superior to everything he does. His grades, his performance, his talents - and he’s backup to a sugar-high skateboarder who has flipped Google’s entire mindset on his head in less than a week. His conversation with Wilford runs through his mind again, and Google starts to grasp the pink-haired man’s explanation. The Iplier company, Dark specifically, truly doesn’t hire just anyone. If they become useless, they cut off the deadweight without a second thought. 

 

This supposedly little puddle of a man turned out to be an ocean, and Google is struggling to not drown in its depth. 

 

A loud sigh and a squeak of an office chair brings Google out of his thoughts, and he looks over to see Bing reclining back in his chair with his arms over his head. He stretches with a grunt, and Google can hear his neck and back pop before Bing drops his arms and turns in his chair. Bing’s eyes widen when they land on Google, and Google’s eyes flicker briefly to the man’s mouth briefly as it opens in surprise. 

 

“Googs! I didn’t know you were still here,” Bing greets him with a smile. 

 

Google lets out a sigh of his own as he turns back to his computer screens and starts to close down the programs for the evening. “Yes, well, someone had to make sure you didn’t fall asleep against your computer once you’ve crashed. Drool does not go well with circuit boards.”

The resulting laugh is warm and inviting, and Google schools his emotion to stop the smile that tries to form on his own lips in return. His neutral shell cracks into a scowl, however, when he feels Bing drape his arms over his shoulders and around his neck in a hug as Google works. “Aw, I didn’t know you cared!” 

 

He shrugs the man’s arms off of him and abruptly stands after logging off his computer. Bing has his hands in the air in surrender, knowing he shouldn’t have touched without permission, but the smile on his face is ever present.

 

The skater tucks his hands into his own pockets, and Google looks him over. His skater jacket is gone, only a simple black wide-sleeved tank top remains. Yellow pants with black stripes on the side adorns his lower half, and his raven black hair seems like it was tossed by the wind. Black skater shoes and fingerless gloves complete the look, and Bing’s smile widens when their gazes lock again. Google coughs and looks away, focusing instead on grabbing his car keys from his desk before he starts walking towards the elevator. He stops at the intersection of the office and hallway and turns around, facing Bing. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, debating on what to say, and Bing, for once, waits silently.

 

“Good work today,” Google finally says. His pride doesn’t allow to acknowledge his misconception of the man, but it prevents him from not noticing his intelligence. The shock of watching Bing today still hasn’t gone away, and his own brain is still trying to process this. 

 

His mood becomes worse when Bing seems to read his thoughts. “I impressed you that much, did I? You’ve been staring at me ever since. Did you fall in love with me and my amazing skills?”

 

Google feels his eye twitch, and when Bing winks at him, he throws a nearby water bottle at Bing’s face. He tells the man to get back to work. Bing laughs, arguing that the business is officially closed for the day, and Google retorts that it’s Bing’s punishment for being an asshole. Google has to hold back a smirk when Bing replies with “That’s fair,” but the two still gather their things before heading towards the elevator. 

 

Bing rides the elevator down to the bottom floor with Google, but stays in the machine once Google departs. He looks back at his coworker with a questioning frown, but Bing explains himself before he has to ask. “Gotta visit the boss and give him a report. He’s gonna be mad about letting Anti slip in today...” he states while places his hands behind his head in a relaxed pose. 

 

“Do you mean Mr. Warfstache? I thought he left for the day.”

 

Bing smile grows. “Sorry, shoulda specified. I meant our big boss, Mr. Iplier himself.” He starts laughing when Google’s eyes grow at the mentioned name. Bing’s eyes are teasing when he says his final piece. “I’d invite you, but it’s executives only. I don’t think you have the clearance for it. Guess you have to ‘git gud’, dude.”

 

The water bottle Google throws ricochets off the elevator’s closing doors, and he swears he can hear Bing’s laughter the entire time it ascends. 

 

In the span of just over a week, everything Google has thought to have known as fact has been turned on its head. The concept of Bing doesn’t fit into anything Google has ever encountered before, and it’s challenging and forcing his mind to develop a new way of accepting this form of his coworker. 

As he watches the dial above the elevator indicate the machine has reached the top floor, Google smiles. 

 

He’s always up for a challenge.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the end! Hope you enjoyed it~
> 
> I'm leaving it as a oneshot for now, but I have danced with the idea of making this into multi-chapter story. Let me know what you think. :)
> 
> Thanks for stopping by~


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